Snow Feather
by breadsticks
Summary: The misadventures of angel boy, Tsuna, and obsessive stalker Gokudera from the mafia. Update: The End.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Not mine.

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It was a whirlwind of snow feathers.

Falling gently around them.

Gokudera's own beating heartbeat, so loud, reverberated around his chest, so insistent, so _needy_, it muffled everything else. His muscles would not move, icy numb and breathless shocked.

The tiny kid, _so tiny_, gave his hand towards Gokudera, _fuck _even the fingers were so _small, like a child, _to help him up. And behind the kid, no his name was _Tsunayoshi, damn it_, _remember it_, behind him, flexed angel white wings.

An _angel_.

Gokudera's greedy eyes took in the _too-_large brown eyes, the rumpled school uniform, and the peach, _it was goddamn peach,_ skin and god, Gokudera wanted to drink this kid in. And slowly, so slow like snow, he saw the blood trickling down both hands, _fuck fuck,_ the strange twisted angle of one elbow, and the mouth, god _it was pink_, pinched in pain. And there, the glimmerings of tears. Tsuna had gotten hurt. The impact, the strain on his wings and arms, and _god_, comparing their body mass, Tsuna _should not_ have been able to fly.

Gokudera wanted to murder something.

Never, never, Tsuna would never get hurt again. Gokudera would even burn the world to make sure of it.

Tsuna's hand was still outstretched towards him, bleeding, broken, but, _god it was for him,_ for him. And his angel's pink, pink mouth trembled—"_A-are you okay?"_

And with that, no-good little Tsuna collapsed onto Gokudera, transfer student from Italy. And the cheering crowd of spectators in the quad pierced their world as emergency ambulances began screeching to a stop in front of their school.

Gokudera, heart beating in his mouth, took out his cell and dialed.

"Reborn, I'm on the school roof, get me a helicopter, district five. I'll explain later."


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Not mine.

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Tsuna stumbled out of his room into the kitchen, his shirt off. He dropped to his knees in front of an alcove containing an urn and a stick of incence and then wrung his hands.

Then he reached behind his back to find, once again, two tiny feathery wings had sprouted overnight.

He pulled at his hair now.

"Wha-what's this?"

The urn stared at him in silence.

"U-umm, am I dead?"

The incence smoke wavered at him mockingly.

"So, I, um, am not dead? Th-these aren't angel wings?" And he proceeded to flutter them.

The altar was silent.

"Um. You're not playing a joke on me, are you?"

He fiddled with the frayed edges of his shorts and peeked through his bangs at his mother's picture in the alcove.

"I-it's really not very funny, you know. Even if they're kind of ticklish."

The picture distinctly did not move. He sighed and stood up to put a white cotton pad over them and tape them from moving around too much. Thank goodness for winter and extra lumpy jackets.

After a shower and the bandaging of irritating wings, Tsuna had decided not to report the wings to any medical official. For one thing, he couldn't afford a surgery nor could he afford to be 'discovered'. He was already no-good Tsuna. He didn't want to be freaky Tsuna. For another, it really wasn't very important. It wasn't hurting him, it wasn't bothering him at all. No, it was better to ignore them.

He was pretty good at ignoring things after all.

School came and went and Tsuna stumbled into his tiny apartment. He immediately turned on the tv and the news began blaring. He dropped his bag near the counter and dug through the drawers for a first aid kit.

Then he began to bandage the bruises on his arms.

He took of his shirt and took off the cotton pad. He sighed in relief and his wings fluttered in anxiety.

Then he took down a pot and began to make noodles.

Later, eating oversalted noodles and doing his homework, he wondered if this still wasn't some sort of joke.


	3. Chapter 3

They'd grown.

_Overnight_.

Hmm. Tsuna peered over his shoulder at the mirror facing the two Outgrowths. He fluttered them.

He wondered if he'd have to worry about lice. Birds had lice, didn't they? And viruses and some other things. But it had been damn hard to clean them as they became soggy in water and three times heavier.

He looked up 'proper care of pigeons' online. A warm water solution containing Dettol, huh? That'd be easy to get from a pet store, he supposed.

He looked at the altar again suspiciously.

Maybe they were mutations and he really should go to a doctor? Doctors were supposed to be discreet, right? But, the cost…His weekly stipend from the state didn't really cover health insurance or an actual clinical appointment.

He shrugged and went on to school, forgetting his packed lunch again.

And then school was over and Tsuna came home, this time successful in avoiding his classmates during dismissal.

And the apartment was silent and the tv was loud and Tsuna didn't really want to eat dinner and so didn't.

* * *

The next day, the doorbell rang earlier than his alarm clock and Tsuna stumbled out of bed, out of his room, pulling on a bulky sweater to hide the damn things and opened the door.

Mrs. K stood there, the social worker from before, holding a bag of groceries at him.

"'Lo, kid."

Later on, when he'd put away the groceries and Mrs. K had inspected the apartment to her standards of cleanliness, he was hauled over to stand on a weighing scale taken from one of his drawers.

"Hmm."

He didn't say anything as she hmmd some more and fretted even more.

"That's five pounds you've lost kid, just this past two weeks. You really need to eat more," she said looking at him and poking at his chest to emphasize her point.

"I'm fine, Mrs. K. Just been having a rough, um, week," Tsuna said while self-consciously keeping his back away from her.

Her eyes narrowed but she didn't say anything.

They talked for a while about what was happening in Tsuna's life and the new kittens Mrs. K's cat just had and then it was time for her to go. She left with one last token advice, "Get a part-time job, 'kay? Or at least a hobby."

She didn't say anything about Tsuna's dark eyebags or the smell of disinfectant heavy in the living room. Tsuna was grateful.

Because Tsuna was okay and really didn't need other people to waste time worrying about him.

He was okay.

Even with the damn wings.


	4. Chapter 4

AN: Thank you to WarFlame001for being the first reviewer and also stopping me from deleting this story. I was, at first, disappointed with the reception of this story and had wondered if it was even worth pursuing. But WarFlame001's review and several others who seeem to have used story alert (and I can't seem to find their names anywhere on my profile ;) on this fic stopped me from nuking it, so thank you very much everybody!

Another AN: This was actually inspired by Asian Kung-Fu Generation's After Dark, so please check it out on youtube, it's an astounding music video and if that's not enough, this music was also used as Bleach's opening song in one of the arcs. Rock on, yeah.

It was her anniversary today.

Tsuna clutched at the sunflowers in his left hand while his right hand fiddled with the keys into the lock. Seconds later, after a few more token struggles with his disagreeable door and a brief victory, he'd gone in and kneeled in front of the altar and placed the flowers on the table.

After a few seconds, Tsuna went to the kitchen for a vase, chastised by the silence.

He put the flowers on the vase this time.

Again, he'd forgotten the water.

"…Sorry…"

After pouring water in the vase, he lit the incense next to it.

Then he stared at the picture of his mom.

"Um…School is going well," he _means_ to say the bruises have gone away, "…and I've been looking around for a part-time job…"

"I-it's just that…the money I get from the, um, the state, it's, um, sort of not enough…" not for the bandages anyway, "…so, um, don't worry."

Being a ward of the state was not the worst thing in the world and Tsuna was sure he was okay with it. He was pretty sure. Okay. Um.

"…and I'm still not happy with the wings…"

In fact, they'd grown, now past his shoulders and he'd had to use bandage tapes to bind his whole chest. It made wheezing while running from not-so-nice kids so much harder.

After a few more minutes where the picture said nothing, he lowered his head and stood up to turn on the loud tv.

Then he took off his shirt and bindings. His wings ached and cramped itself into knots, complaining of the tight restrictions. He ignored them as he was a little bit certain they were hallucinations. But, still, to make sure, the bindings would stay…

He wondered if he was going mad as he slowly fried some garlic and bandage tapes…

After a while, he cursed softly, took the pan off the fire, and dumped the ruined cotton strips into the trash can.

Annoyed, he decided to forget dinner and would instead eat a large breakfast tomorrow.

Right. Er.

His wings flexed anxiously. He batted at them.

He was okay. He was not insane. He would know, he was himself, after all. And people didn't go insane just because they were talking to their apartments or their dead mother's pictures. No, it was...okay. Right?

His wings relaxed and rested on his shoulders. They warmed his chest and he let them stay there.

Night passed and his alarm clock screamed at him. And breakfast commenced.

As Tsuna chewed on toast and stared outside his window at the early morning risers, he wondered how they could all bear the constant painful noise of urban life. Or of people, generally. They were so...noisy, unlike his apartment. They were so frantic, so stressful, so full of..._energy_.

He stared at his toast. He wondered, maybe, if he was dead and this was hell.

His wings rustled at him. No, hell wouldn't have snow-white wings on its victims, surely? It was, after all, a matter of aesthetics.

Encouraged, he bit more forcefully into his toast. It scrunched in agony, his toast. It tasted good.


	5. Chapter 5

Tsuna liked the wings.

Tsuna could deal with the bandages and the cramps and the constant feeling of being completely _alien_ from his classmates and from the rest of the world. He could deal with that. He dealth with it for his entire albeit short life. After all, in the whole world, who else had angel wings, and Tsuna means real ones, not the fake feathery contraptions that seemed to be all the rage in rock bands.

Pigeons and doves and birds, that's who. Here, Tsuna drooped a bit.

Um, but the best thing about them, really, the _best_ was that they were _white_. So white, snow-like WHITE. Clean, lovely white. It wasn't off-white Benjamin #15043, it wasn't creamy Moore #2543, but an excellent, clinical white, the proper mixture of all the colors, cloud white.

So clean, so free from dirt, so empty…Tsuna thought it was wonderful.

Because Tsuna was empty too, and he was sure, if his soul had a color, it'd be just like the wings'. Gloriously empty.

No fuss, no destruction, just complete and utter _nothing_.

Nothing-Tsuna.

No-use Tsuna.

Dame Tsuna.

Wonderful.

It was a color of death and insanity, Mrs. K had once told him.

_Beautiful_.

Tsuna had already planned his death. It would be in winter, in the first shower of snow. He would be, probably about in his later twenties, and he would wear a suit, black and red, to contrast with the snow. He would take pills and even outstretch his wings right in the abandoned church. Then he'd fly around, watch his city one last time, then come back to the ruined church. There, on the roof, he'd watch the snow and slowly sleep his way to death. With wings in full regalia.

Tsuna laughed. It'd be wonderful.

Just like in the movies.

After all, life was pretty boring.

And _empty_.

It was afternoon and Tsuna came home, marginally poorer and his personal bully richer.

Tsuna sat in front of the alcove.

"A new student came…from Italy, I think…I'm sure it's in Greenland, or something…He was…really loud. And _destructive_," he remembered the explosion and _ohgod, the illegal dynamites_, "—so I'll stay away."

Because Tsuna's wings had twitched when the transfer student had come in. Even underneath all that tape. His wings had started to shiver and it had traveled to his shoulders to his arms to his hands. No, Tsuna would stay away from Gokudera Hayato. Tsuna had enough problems to take care of.

His mother did not respond.

He stood up and turned on the tv to some random channel. Then he went to the kitchen counter and began to make hot clam chowder. From the can in the pantry.

He was pretty sure the expiration date was lying.

And then a new day dawned and Tsuna stumbled into class and after a few hours stumbled out into the quad. It was dismissal and his bully had been absent, hopefully being gnawed on by lice. On the pubes. It was a good day.

Then Tsuna's wings ached and his classmates and the school leaves falling to the ground slowed. People's mouths moved slowly, their legs moved even slower, and then the silence from his apartment seemed to envelope Tsuna. He clutched his backpack and his wings ached more and more.

Glass crashed and exploded in that soft slow way on the fifth floor and Tsuna couldn't even hear the noise, the silence too loud and consuming. And among the shards still moving away from that explosion outwards from the window, was a body curled up in defense. And Tsuna stared at the transfer student, Gokudera, arms raised to his face, eyes scrunched in the air, still being pushed outward, smoke halo-ing him, gravity still not pulling him down. He was curled up, just like the way Tsuna curled up before punches and kicks started to rain down as if pulled by gravity.

Gravity would pull in a few more seconds and kill Gokudera.

With the seconds still being stretched to their limits into molasses, Tsuna dumped his school bag and began to run with a speed he'd never known. He ran and ran and his wings ached even more as it stretched against the bindings and they burst from his back, weakly flapping and heaving powerful sweeps. And he was off his feet and Gokudera was starting to fall downward and he was heaving, hands _icecold_, his wings straining.

The silence was so loud.

_Impact_.

Tsuna had slammed into Gokudera's body, and he heard the distant crack of, he was pretty sure, a broken elbow, and hot drips of blood snaked around his trembling arms as he clutched onto the heavy body of Gokudera and his wings strained even more. He was too heavy, too heavy, and Tsuna's wings were tearing and feathers were flying and Tsuna's lungs were heaving and his heart was beating, beating overdrive in the loud silence.

The glass shards had cut so well.


	6. Chapter 6

AN: I debated to myself and my cereal whether I should occasionally switch to Gokudera's pov. Received no confirmation or refusal from the cocoa puffs. Was annoyed. Challenged it that I would and if I did, I would eat the whole damn bowl of it.

"If you will never leave me, I too will never leave you," recited Gokudera from an old fairytale.

He waited for the reply that would surely come, like the sun that came after the moon, like the explosion after the fuse, inevitability.

Hundred percent probability.

Tsuna's face did not change, exhaustion level: seventy three percent. Chances of waking up: only twelve percent.

_Then Tsuna opened his mouth, "Neither now nor ever will I leave you," his eyes still shut, asleep, the spindle spinning its slumberous spell._

Chances of that happening: 0.0001 percent. Gokudera had long lost any pretense to childhood when he'd joined the Vongola Famiglia. Daydreams were useless and unnecessary.

Gokudera raised the cigarette, between index and middle finger, to his mouth and dragged a smoky breathe from it and exhaled away from the angel's face lying on his lap, asleep.

Fifty seconds till the medical officials would reach the top roof, where they were situated, maybe three minutes till they realized the lock was melted and charred, useless, courtesy of his tiny specialized A43-cherry bombs, and probably two minutes and thirty-three seconds before Reborn came.

Gokudera curled and uncurled and curled a lock of Tsuna hair around his unoccupied hand's index finger.

Forty-five seconds. He curled and uncurled.

_Tsuna caught his hand, interlaced his tiny fingers with Gokudera's pianist' ones, and opened his pink, rose pink mouth, in a faint dulcet voice,"I devote myself…to you…forever and ever."_

Tsuna still wasn't awake.

Twenty-three seconds.

And then whirring of helicopter blades came in just in time as the officials began body-slamming the door. Reborn slid the rope ladder down, and Gokudera climbed it, Tsuna's body limp on his shoulder.

Reborn did not say anything even as he heard Gokudera muttering, "…devote myself to you…_devote…_", several times, staring at the angel he clutched in his arms.

Reborn said nothing. He opened the first aid travel kit and fussed over them both.

By the time they'd arrived at a safe-house, it was already dark, the moon round and smooth as a marble. Then they were shuffled off to the clinic, and Gokudera sat near Tsuna's bed, and Reborn coughed, reminding him.

Not taking his eyes off Tsuna, Gokudera began to renumerate the mission details, still curling and uncurling a Tsuna lock of hair.

He'd not reached for a seventh cigarette this day, Reborn noted, pleased.

And the mission was completed, as well as Gokudera could have done it, under the circumstances, and here, Reborn shot a look of curiosity and annoyance at the angel. And then it was over and Reborn had left.

Gokudera and Tsuna.

Alone.

It was _wonderful_.

Then he hooked himself to an available laptop in the clinic and began doing a thorough search on one, Sawada Tsuna.

_Tsuna was sleeping._

Tsuna was sleeping.

Peacefully.

_"...neither now...nor ever..." murmured the angel in sleep_.

His soft breathing filled the room.

Gokudera wished he would stop daydreaming.


	7. Chapter 7

AN: I ate the whole bowl of it.

_In a dimly lit room, Tsuna sat on the floor, bandages wrapped tightly around him, around his chest, around his wings, around his hands and feet, and they disappeared off into the dark edges of the room, bonding and chaining him to the silence in the room. _

_There were unused bandages, piled round him, bandages, after bandages after bandages, glowing snow-white. _

_And slowly, in the darkness, like a flower blooming, Tsuna felt hands, warm, on his cheeks and onto his eyes, slowly covering what light was left, blinding him. And then, he felt the warmth of a forehead resting on the back of his neck, a slow breathe ghosting along his spine._

_And then, the silence was filled by the slow breathe of Tsuna's ghostly friend._

**Rewind.**

At his desk, for his very first day at the district five's school, Namimori High, he scanned his classmates for his targets. Only one, Yamamoto Takeshi, was in the class. The rest of them barely registered on his radar. Pathetic. Fucking pathetic.

He had yet to see the other one, one Hibari Kyouya. There had been no other candidates, he was certain. This recruiting mission would be completed in a few short weeks, and he snorted, annoyed at being tasked as errand boy again. As usual.

That bastard would pay for giving him a lame-ass mission.

Still though, he hid the Vongola mark, the ring, with his dogtags wrapped around his wrists, under the school jacket. It was better to be safe than sorry. There were too many rivals for the Vongola Famiglia. Too many damn enemies, he couldn't even begin to imagine how many the damn heir collected like a fucking collection of stamps.

Bastard. He snorted and ignored the wide eyes and the quick shuffle his classmates made to avoid him and the prominent belt of dynamite sticks he barely covered with his jacket. True, he could not display his mafia allegiance, but he would damn well earn some respect. Respect was a fucking hard currency.

Mission #43: Chances of completion, hundred percent.

He snorted again, and ignored the rest of the fucking student herd.

What a useless bunch of _children_.

And _later on_, when confronted with his last target, Hibari Kyouya, and being forced into battle, and detonating the bombs he'd placed as preemptive measures, and flying, crashing straight through out the window, he'd wonder at his _stupidity_.

He had no back-up plan.

Flying out the window, his hair streaming, his body curling in defense, his eyes still trained on his opponent in the room still standing with that unholy fucking grin, he was _furious_. To think, he would die because of a fucking mission. To die for a level C mission. What an unglorious end. What a useless life he'd thrown away. The utter anonymity of his ignominious death.

Unrecognized.

Worthless.

_Nothing._

He felt them, tears, useless things. And gravity pulled.

_And a storm of feathers enveloped him, as he felt the impact of a body hurtling upwards, as he felt the frantic beat of wings slowing, as he saw Kyouya's grin disappear, as tiny childish hands clutched at his uniform, he bent his face towards the angel._

_And he was saved. _

Later on, in the clinic, when he'd gathered up data, when he'd slept like a log right through breakfast, Dr. Shamal came in and smacked him up the head.

"What the hell?!"

"You fucking moron. Do you even know what the hell has been happening lately because of your little _angel_?"


	8. Chapter 8

AN: Damn you, cocoa puffs.  There's no more _milk_.

When Tsuna woke up to a white, white room and right in front of his face, the drooling, sleeping face of transfer student, Gokudera Hayato, he screamed.

Gokudera shot up like a bullet, hauled out several dynamite sticks, and began yelling out obscenities at an invisible opponent.

Tsuna, meanwhile, had hidden himself under the bed.

Gokudera blinked the sleep from his eyes several more times.

Tsuna trembled a little bit more, grasped the blankets around him a little bit more roughly, and generally forced himself not to squeak. His wings weren't bandaged. They were ruffling and pointedly sticking out from underneath the bed.

"T-tsuna-san, are you okay?" with that Gokudera peered underneath the bed.

Tsuna forced himself not to pee in fright. _Hiii, a thug! A yakuza one!_

He trembled in response.

"Aah-ah, Tsuna-san, please, get back on the bed, you'll feel cold there, you'll get sick and who knows what'll happen—"

_Hiii, a threat!_

With that, Tsuna scrambled back onto the bed, following the scary man's orders.

Gokudera breathed in relief.

"Ummmm…I don't believe we've been formally introduced, Tsuna-san. I am Gokudera Hayato, one of your classmates, the um, the transfer one, ahaha!"

A lightbulb clicked into Tsuna's thoughts and he nodded quickly.

"I-I'm Sawada T-tsuna…"

Gokudera beamed at him. Tsuna could practically feel the _death_ rays of happiness stabbing him.

A few more seconds of Gokudera intensely attempting love-at-first-sight via eye contact. Tsuna just felt chills running down his back. He refused to look at the student next to his bed.

Finally Gokudera lowered his eye gaze, "…do you need or want anything, Tsuna-san? PLEASE, please do not hesitate to ask, I will provide anything—"

After some unwanted pillow-fluffing, some unnecessary tucking in bed sheets, and some much appreciated cookies, Gokudera began screaming at the other people in the other rooms to shut up, _because Tsuna-san needed rest, dammit_.

Then Gokudera fiddled with the controls of the heater on the wall for the appropriate temperature for recovering patients that he'd thoroughly researched the night before. Then he set off for a glass of milk to give to Tsuna-san. And some books as Tsuna-san might be bored already. And maybe some daisies.

And some balloons. Maybe a doll, or two.

Then he slapped himself on the forehead. He'd _forgotten_. He hurried to gather the above said items to get back quickly to Tsuna-san.

_Two hours or so later on…_

"—and at ten years old, I was already playing Beethoven pieces—"

Tsuna fiddled with the high-quality bed sheets.

A few more minutes passed.

"—and got into the prestigious Academy R. early—"

Tsuna stared at Gokudera's necktie, eyes glazed.

A few more _more_ minutes passed.

"—accepted into the Vongola Famiglia, been rising in the ranks quickly—"

Tsuna was nodding along to Gokudera's voice, eyes half-mast. Then he started to nod off. Recovering was always the hardest part on him.

_He was on a swing, swaying back and forth, back and forth, a little bit sea-sick. Around him, trembled the wire frame of the bird-cage, rising from the depths of his mind. His wings flapped, pushing him on the swing, up and down, higher, sometimes lower. He watched the silence around him._

_Someone was shaking the cage. Shaking the silence._

_Don't, stop, you'll break it, you'll please, no, please—_

_They didn't stop._

He blinked awake as the words washed over him.

"—devote my life to you! A life debt, the one you gave me, forever I'll keep paying, no thanks is enough, no action deserving of what—"

He squeaked in alarm.

"—please do not worry, your wings, your safety will be top priority—"

That hadn't been, but, well, that, he was glad Gokudera wouldn't hand him off to the scientists or the medical field, but really. It had been the whole 'devote my life' that had him gnawing his bottom lip.

Gokudera paused, eyes wide at the gesture.

Tsuna looked up, "…umm?"

Gokudera flushed and quickly looked to the side, changing the subject, "…aaah, your things, I've sent someone to get them. You see, it's no longer safe at your apartment, ahh, but here, you'll be safe, I guarantee it, here, you'll have my protection—"

Tsuna's eyes began to widen even more.

"—I'm sorry, but I, I, I really can't l-let you go…" and here Gokudera's face reddened like a ripe Italian tomato and Tsuna finally pulled the covers over his head.

_Hiii, a stalker situation!_ _Nooo…_

_I'm hallucinating, yes, delusional on hospital drugs. Imaginary Gokudera, go away, go, go, shoo! No more talking to his apartment or to pictures, hiiee._


	9. Chapter 9

AN: My sugar jar tried to assasinate me this morning. Fortunately, my supercool lightning fast reflexes helped me dodge it as it fell down to the floor. It crashed all the sugar though. No more sugar in my cocoa puffs.

The sun lit the floors of the conservatory with pools of luminous water, excess from this morning's daily sprinkling. Clouds drifted from puddle to puddle, moving across the glassy surface.

Tsuna could taste at the back of his mouth, the cold green taste of new spring.

His wings shivered in the cold air.

The water rushed from the spouts in the fountain, rippling the large pond. There were no fish. Only clouds swam through, a clear reflection of cerulean blue and lazy white.

He was sitting on the edge of the pond, fingertips skimming the sky. He missed the bandages.

Gokudera-kun had hidden all the bandages and had violently warned the staff into not giving him any.

No bandages for hiding the wings. And for scrapes and wounds? There had been no need for Gokudera to even say anything about injuries. His furious glare at the staff had said it all. Any harm done to the angel would immediately result in detonating the poor bastard.

It had been the first time he'd had a fight with Gokudera-kun.

"_I-it's not right! You shouldn't have to hide them here. Not with me, not in my house, you shouldn't have to be afraid."_

He hadn't been able to counter that with anything.

Two weeks ago, he'd been moved from the safehouse, drugged asleep, into this…place. Owned by Gokudera, this Victorian manor was hidden deep in the high mountains of somewhere. Tsuna hadn't recognized the name.

No cities or villages as far as the eye could see.

For contact, who could he call? He didn't know anybody's phone number, even Mrs. K's. The police? 9-1-1? No, he didn't even have a phone, nor did he have access to one. The large house next to the conservatory had none. Nor did the staff. Only Gokudera-kun carried the only cellphone in this place.

It wasn't to say that he was abused or neglected or caged in this place. Often the chef made soba noodles especially for him, real and not from the cheap plastic packages. Several times, the gardener let him pick the daisies and mums, which he often left in chairs and couches, forgetting. And worryingly, many times, did Gokudera-kun visit him bringing books or unusual foods or games from wherever he was off to. He was allowed to go around in the house and conservatory and everything in the manor, surrounded by sheer mountain rocks.

In fact, he had been treated with the utmost care and respect a person could ask for, by both Gokudera-kun and the staff.

Then why was it that he was planning his fourth escape attempt?

He looked questioningly at the clouds lazing on the water.

They moved on, floating like fish on the pond, without an answer to him. Like the ghosts in his apartment. They had no answer.

But they were the only ones who seemed to understand.

_Later on that evening, in a secret room on the third level of the house, Gokudera tracked the newest aftereffects of the event of his salvation two weeks ago. He had started gathering information a week ago, after tending to Tsuna-san.  
_

_Dr. Shamal had every right to be furious with him._

_This was a disaster. _

_Reborn had been watching from the shadows and he had come forward, tapped him on the shoulder with the butt of his gun, and asked, "How now, brat? Will you protect him from the whole world? Even then, even if you will, how?"_

_He had bitten his cigarette in half, cursed, said, "They'll forget soon enough."_

"_They won't. You know they won't. And do you intend to hide Tsunayoshi from the world for the rest of his life? Will you have the heart to keep him here, like some freak pet?"_

_Gokudera tasted blood in his mouth, bitten from his lip. Reborn was right, the bastard. _

_For a few seconds, he said nothing, still staring at the main screen of his computer._

"_We don't need the rest of the world. It can burn in hell."_

_Reborn's eyes narrowed at him._

_But Gokudera had already faced away from him, already clicking and typing on that damned computer._

_He turned to leave. He did not stop, even as he heard the brat muttering, "...burn..."  
_


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

He breathed an icy wind onto the curled fingers of a sleeping Tsuna-san.

He paused, waiting for a reaction. The seconds ticked away. Tsuna-san did not give him one, still sleeping by the sway of the sandman. He leaned closer, his face almost nuzzling Tsuna-san's neck. Closer—closer—_stop_.

Eight centimeters, and he'd stopped. No closer.

He sat up again, his brow crinkling. He cocked his head, ashy hair falling in choppy waves. Tsuna-san still hadn't moved, breathing softly, sleepily. Eight…? He fumbled in his pockets for a cigarette, found one, and then froze. He stared down at Tsuna-san's face, still and quiet. Breathing…He clenched his fist, crumbling the cigarette in it and tossed it outside the window. The wind blew the curtains, an approval. He snorted but still stared down at his angel.

His hand lifted, slack fingers outstretched and—_stop_.

Eight centimeters, his fingertips hovered from Tsuna-san's skin. The angel didn't even murmur dreamily, still as death. With this distance, between his fingers and velvet skin, these eight centimeters…he could feel no warmth. With this span of space between them, so close, so _impervious_…Tsuna-san did not stir. As if they were two separate beings, two different lonely people in the world, as if there was no _connection_ between them at all.

He prodded the edge of those eight centimeters of air again.

No warmth. Nothing. He could feel nothing, almost as if Tsuna-san was a ghost, an illusion. So easy to break, so easy to shatter…this strange gossamer reality he'd built, this…this breathing _little angel_.

Still, his fingers did not pass. He wondered if this was some sort of magic Tsuna-san had cast to keep him away. A spell of desolation and heartache. Or, if he was dreaming this boundary into existence. A bubble of withdrawal and ignorance. For what? What use or purpose? _Why? _Just one touch, one moment in time, once skin met skin—would this angel crack like glass, utter destruction? Contamination?

Gokudera watched and wondered how to break this wall between them.

Then he shook his head, flat refusal at the thought, and reached out to tuck the covers more tightly, whispering "…to the depth and breadth and height…"

Bianchi, Miu Miu glasses on, stepped into the room, interrupting him, "—for the Ends of Being and ideal Grace…"

He shut his mouth quickly, turning to glare at her for disturbing Tsuna-san.

She laughed at him and mussed up his hair. He jerked his head back. "What do you want, meddlesome hag?"

She dug her stiletto heel into his foot, still no break in her tranquilly smiling face. "Ara, resorting to love poems, baby brother? You sure are getting cornier in your age. What a lazy love! Put some more work into it, idiot, if you really are in the throes of Cupid."

"Whatever, says the desperate obsessive stalker of Reborn-san!"

"Ah, ah, I prefer deviously diligent housewife."

"You're not even engaged yet," he flatly replied.

She whipped out a bag of home-made pastries, "I wonder, if someone would like a taste of my marvelous—"

Gokudera was already vomiting outside the window.

She hid it again in her purse, no sign of remorse at all. She sighed at her brother, _what a weakling_.

He glared at her, gargling in the bathroom with the door open to Tsuna-san's room. _What a bitch_.

She'd been called in by Dr. Shamal to fix Gokudera's latest mess. Some sort of unrequited love, apparently, and here she glanced at the brunette on the bed. Her little brother's savior and angel…She wondered how she could fix this when she had her own problems with Reborn.

And here, Gokudera turned away from her, fingers rubbing the covers on Tsuna's sleeping form.

She sighed, _stupid little brother_.

"Listen, Gokudera…why do you think he tries so hard to escape? He's done three now, any more and he'll become a nuisance to the Famiglia."

His teeth clenched. "…do you think I should get them," he gestured at the wings, "surgically removed? That way…he'll at least be able to go outside—"

She slapped him, smile still in place.

"What the hell was that for?!"

"Moron. Do you even see? Do you even understand? The reason for all of this, this _trouble, _is because of you. Yes, you. It's your _fault. _Your mistake. Why is it that he nearly breaks his limbs trying to escape? Why is it that he tapes his wings so tightly, even though you've forbidden any bandages in the house, even though his wings are obviously healthy and beautiful? So tight, idiot kid, so tight that they leave red marks on him?—"

He opened his mouth, an obvious retort about to spill and she slapped a hand onto his forehead and leaned close, spitting contempt.

"Because no one has accepted them, least of all you…You think you're protecting him from the world? You think you're guaranteeing him safety and sanctuary from other people? Don't make me laugh—what do you care about them? Why do you care so much about what they think and what they can do that you go to all this trouble just to hide Tsuna? Why are you hiding him? You, the eternal idiot who never listened to his older sister, you, the completely reckless moron who went off and joined another Famiglia against Papa's advice, and now…now, you cower? From the world, for the sake of your one true love?"

His mouth grimaced, no answer.

"It's not love, not real, if you have to hide it. Not even for love's safety."

He looked away, obviously in a sulk.

Her eyes soften behind the sunglasses, "You can touch him, Gokudera. He won't crumble, he won't break. He's not that weak, not that fragile, that you need to protect him from everyone. Accept his wings and his naivety, his tangibility, and his strength. Understand?"

He doesn't say anything, although he's started to bite his lower lip, a habit picked up from Tsuna.

She stood up, shouldering her Prada purse. "Quickly, yes? Before anyone…Hmm...Life isn't a fairytale, brat. Love isn't like a damsel and some shining bastard in metal. He won't fall in love with you just because…Well, close the distance, quickly, okay?..." She stopped, not sure if she'd pushed too far. What right had she…? Reborn…

Eventually, she went away, leaving Gokudera to his thoughts and his Tsuna-san and his eight centimeters.

"…to the level of every day's most quiet need, by sun and candlelight…" he finished a bit expectant but now mostly resigned.


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: Not mine.

0101010

Chapter 11:

"These are pomegranate seeds," he offered the open fruit to Tsuna, "and you eat them like this," so saying he took one of the scarlet gems and popped it into his mouth. The strangely sweet taste with that sour tart tinge at the end burst into his mouth. He spit it into his other hand. And dropped it onto the ground.

_And so it was that Hades abducted Persephone in the grip of maddening love. Hades, the Unseen One, Lord of Death and all of the Underworld, brought to his knees by a single beating heart._

Tsuna extended a wary hand and Gokudera stripped a few more seeds from the pale flesh of the fruit and gave them to him.

_And he took her down into his dark domain and kept her prisoner._

His small hands cupped the red glassy seeds and he looked them over, in doubt and disbelief. They looked expensive.

_And even the world felt Demeter's pain and grief for the loss of her daughter, Persephone. Hades' love had destroyed the mortal world. So much so, that even Zeus, God of all gods, moved to intervene. But before Persephone left Hades' world…_

He put them in his mouth and chewed on them and that strange flavor of sadness and despair and hope dripped into his mouth.

_He gave her pomegranate seeds to eat._

He spit the seeds out and Gokudera gestured for him to throw them onto the ground. He smiled at the older boy, "…T-they're good." Afternoon light spilled from the vivid green leaves over their heads onto the tiled ground, a pattern of shadows and sun.

_And she would be forever tied to him and his world…_

Gokudera gave him a tender smile, "I'm glad."

0101010

Dr. Shamal lovingly poured the metallic powder down one his capsules. One of his home-made creations, his particular favorite, V-43, it was the pinnacle of his career. It would clot blood so fast that the blood vessels would plug themselves in an instant and the heart would strain, strain so hard, it would die. He'd been told before it had tasted like rotten tomatoes. Then that person had died in front of him.

He didn't jerk in surprise, even when Reborn sat down across him and his lab table.

This was delicate work.

"Xanxus-sama has heard. He's moving." Reborn, ever so _loquacious_.

He grunted. Just a few more…

There. "Of course. This Angel Affair has not died down. Known Mafia trainee being saved by an angel? It's attracting _too_ much unwanted attention to his Famiglia."

"Is there anything on the Code that'll protect Gokudera…?" said Reborn.

"No. Your little protégé should kill the damn kid as soon as possible. It's the most merciful thing we can do," he said while he held the capsule up and inspected it. It would do. He placed it on a tray of various little pills and capsules.

Reborn clicked his tongue in disappointment, "What exactly are the rumors?"

"Too much useless gossip and speculations going around."

Reborn handed him a tiny bottle of clear green liquid. He snorted, _a bribe_?

"…Cone snail toxin? That's very _illegal_." Wonder and excitement colored his voice.

Reborn merely cocked his fedora hat at him.

"Hmph. The kid's becoming some sort of an urban legend. Cult idol, too. You should see the surge in sales of fake wings," disdained the doctor.

"…The witnesses?" questioned Reborn.

"Most of the witnesses were students. Stressed out high school students. It gets even better. _No one_ actually got a clear shot of the kid with his wings. Not their cells, nor the school cameras. Too damn fast in a direction people normally don't look at. It's a hotly debated argument, on what actually happened. Drugs, stress, or an honest to god miracle," and Dr. Shamal chuckled at the gullibility of some people. The kid was _no_ angel. Even with the mutations.

"Can our PR hush the whole thing…?" said Reborn.

"Hmm…Doubt it. Not unless something else came up. Something very big. Like this piece I heard three days ago from our little rival famiglias. Talk of a possible kidnap, you know?"

Reborn sighed, "Our little angel is becoming quite an annoyance."

He hummed in agreement and reached for another empty capsule, "It's not a big surprise. The minute he came into the scene, people have started to latch onto him and the idea he represents to them. Hope. Salvation, that sort of thing. That kind of influence he has on the masses…well, any Mafia family would practically be sitting up drooling."

The A-ranked assassin's curly sideburns twitched in amusement. Then in startled revelation, "…You've forgotten a loophole, though."

"Oh? In the Code?" Doctor Shamal's eyebrow raised up.

Reborn began laughing, deep bellows of it, "—enough of a loophole that you won't even need to use V-43 on Tsuna to protect Gokudera."

0101010

They looked like pills full of blood, these pomegranate seeds. He took eight more seeds and put them into his mouth. Gokudera had left to see his sister off to another mission.

She'd been intimidating.

"_Don't be stupid."_

_He'd jerked at her cold voice. He'd been hiding again, in the sun-lit solarium._

"…_E-excuse me?"_

_She'd rolled her eyes at him, "I know what you're thinking. Mafia. Greedy assholes, who get what they want, get what they need, and with no regard for others," and she glared at him, "Gokudera's not like that."_

"_I know t-that! I know…"_

_She tucked in her long curling hair against an ear, "…you're wondering why he took you."_

_He blushed._

_She snorted and looked up towards the glass dome of the solarium, up at the young silver moon that struggled with the mighty sun, "Idiot. He took you because he's a simple guy. He took you because he wanted to protect you. From the world. From the mafia. From yourself and your loneliness. And that's it." And she thought to herself, because he's a child. Because he has such fantastic devotion to fairytales, that he utterly believes that when you saved him, for that one shining instant, you had felt for him, understood him and his heartbeat, a complete stranger. And life should be that simple, that the knight who saves the princess loves her and she loves him in return. It should have been that easy, that simple. And she knew, knew from experience, it was never like that._

And Tsuna wondered at her heartbroken face as he chewed on more pomegranate seeds.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12:

Gokudera's scarred clothed chest expanded as air rushed into his throat into his lungs and he expelled it with a giant scream, "Sun!" and the ring, he thrust at the sky.

The ring refused to do such an obvious cliché as glint and shine in the sunlight.

He shook the ring at the sun.

Annoyed, he brought the ring closer to his face and squinted at it. Then he took out a slightly wrinkled handkerchief, spit on it, and wiped it on the ring. He glared at the ring again. And then at the sun.

One more time, he thought.

He brandished the ring at the sun.

Nothing.

With a growl, he began to vigorously rub off any invisible demons, rust, harmful bacteria, and/or termites off of the ring. And then his fingers slipped and the ring slid from his furious clasp, and it pirouetted in the air as it fell down, and with an audacious little _clink_ bounced on the paved pathway and began to spin and whirl away from him as he gave chase. Towards the sunlit solarium.

------

It rolled and twirled on the ground, leaving a trail of swirling light, until it smacked into Tsuna's left foot.

It reeled in shock and swiveled around dizzily in tiny circles.

Tsuna picked it up.

------

Gokudera stopped at the entrance and dove behind the hedges.

He peered inside.

------

Tsuna turned the ring over in his hand.

It was a plain golden ring, no more than half an inch in width. There was no gem on it, no etchings or carvings or extra little filigrees of silver or white gold. It was just a simple little golden band that even now had a thin layer of patina on it, dimming its shimmer. It looked exhausted, somehow.

Tsuna felt sorry for it.

------

Gokudera leaned forward, on his hands and knees on the dirt, looking through the glass panes of the solarium.

There, Tsuna sat on the edge, the pond behind him reflecting the dark skies and the gray curled clouds and the round little moon, a mirror image of the ceiling. His wings were enfolded around his small body, resting on his shoulders, a frosted cape of ivory feathers. And in his hands, the ring glowed with a burnished luster.

Gokudera rest his forehead on the glass, eyes glued.

------

And as Tsuna was turning the ring over again in his hands, he saw it. Reflected on the ring, a pair of two smudged green could be seen.

He bit his lip, to stop the laugh from bursting out. Honestly…

"Gokudera-kun, you can come out now."

He did, crawling out from underneath the hedges, sheepishly scratching his hair. "A-ahaha, Tsuna-san is very perceptive, knowing where I was…"

Tsuna extended his hand out, the ring on his palm.

"Is this yours?"

"U-umm, no," he stopped fiddling with his hair and stood up straighter from his habitual slouch, "—actually, it's for Tsuna-san."

Tsuna brought his hand back and he looked down at the ring again. "I-I see…"

"No! Um, you don't, Tsuna-san. I-It's for your protection. As my…consort, you'd be, conclusively, a member of the Vongola Famiglia. And you'd be granted the full protection that comes with it, as our Code dictates. No one would use you or take advantage of you or…hurt you. You see?"

Tsuna studied the ring and his reflection on it. His counterpart's softhearted brown eyes dominated his wan face, a strangely sad expression quirking his lips.

"…Why?"

"What do you mean why, Tsuna-san?"

Tsuna looked up at him, "Why all this…so much, for me? Was it just because I…saved you? That one act of kindness enough…for this?" and he held the ring up at the flustered Gokudera.

"It's not—! No, not just—" and _something _seemed to be stuck in Gokudera's throat, his tongue heavy and cumbersome, unable to say, to speak.

Gokudera cursed his clumsiness.

Tsuna examined their reflections on the ring. His counterpart's wings seemed to grow smaller and smaller behind his back. "These strange wings…they don't…they can't save people, you understand? They can't save the world, they can't bring back the dead, they can't protect people from danger…They're useless—"

"—They _saved me_." Gokudera's whisper flooded the air around them.

"…It is because of my wings then…for all this…b-because I have wings…" Gokudera looked up, alarmed, unsure of what to say, what to do, of _what_ exactly was happening, only knowing that something was wrong.

His counterpart on the ring looked alarmed too, a bit like a startled dog, Tsuna thought mirthfully. But he watched his own doppelganger, whose wings rustled nervously, and curious little drops of clear liquid spilled down his flushed cheeks. "…You try too hard…at protecting me…as if I was very precious…as if I was…weak and useless…"

He gripped the ring tighter in his slim fingers, his reflected twin closing his eyes in a final prayer.

"Do you think I'm an angel, Gokudera-kun? Do you see me as an angel…?"

The span of distance between their images on the ring seemed to stretch and stretch and Tsuna still kept asking, kept prodding the wall around them. "Who am I to you…Gokudera-kun? Do you think me…a dream you wished into existence …?"

And Tsuna looked up at him, their reflections gazing at each other, and Gokudera looked back at him and Tsuna opened his mouth.

"Do you…see me?"

Glass exploded.

All around them drifted a snowfall of glittering shards, velvet slow. Tsuna's heart beat a drowsy rhythm, the beats lagging behind the seconds. And Gokudera's hand lifted up lethargically, eyes wide, mouth open—

But Tsuna couldn't hear anything. Couldn't hear Gokudera-kun's reply.

An arm came from the darkness behind Tsuna and wrapped itself around his chest below his wings and Tsuna still couldn't hear it or notice it.

The ring slipped in that cathedral silence, and it filled Tsuna's entire vision as it fell, revolving dreamily in the air as Gokudera tried to reach for him, arm straining, body lunging, and with a resounding _plink_, it lay down sideways, defeated as Gokudera's fingertips slid desperately against Tsuna's own fingertips being pulled back. And the ring still laid there, now just a cold metallic band.

And the arm pulled him into the darkness.


	13. Chapter 13

AN: Sorry if the others didn't appear as much as everyone had been expecting… I'd also like to say thank you to all my readers who endured my mistakes during this story. With that said, here is the happily ever after ending.

--

Because the rain played like a frenzied staccato piece.

The music was growing, faster in a crescendo, in a forte. To be strong, to be deep, to be forte—

There were words to that song, words meant to be sung in tandem with the piano notes but…Gokudera has never said them and most likely never will. Instead, he blew ghosts of these words into the air to compensate. The smoke trailed in the space before him.

A letter to someone who would never receive it …

_Why did you save me? _

_Why did you even bother if you were just going to throw me away? What does that make me, someone you had to save and then carelessly throw out? What does that make me, so worthless…? Saving me that moment, that one fraction of a second when you decided to fly, just for me, you think I would throw away something like that? Do you really think me so callous that I could walk away from you, from that moment?_

_I'm not so tough that I could stand up and walk and forget all of this, no, I can't…Even someone as worthless as me, someone as childish as me, would understand, would realize…that you, you'd destroyed your world for me … You saved me at the price of your solitude, your life…I don't think I could let you go…you have to take that responsibility, you have to— _

_Do you understand that it was a debt of life for a life? _

_But now…I guess…I have become useless. _

He thought for a bit that maybe it was too melodramatic, even for opera. But who cared now?

Gokudera leaned his back to the central chimney of the house and sucked on a cigarette.

He sat among the smaller chimneys, half hidden in their shadows on the roof. Night was coming and more clouds were rolling in. The smoke from that white stick floated in front of him, careless and lifeless. He blew a smoke-ring and watched it crumple in the air.

He felt…well…like smoking again. He felt like he could smoke on that roof, second after hour after month…and maybe even after years.

Maybe it all began, once upon a time…

_Ivory hewn pieces rose and fell and struck taut wires stretched inside. It did so, like dominoes, one falling after the other. Notes filled the air, bleeding into each other. It built a small world around the figure on the piano, made of sound and shadow. Silence was an enemy, a reminder of absence. _

_His mother has died. And he played throughout that night, maybe to fill up something in the house._

_They called it the muteness of death._

He shook his head.

The piano kept playing, sotto voce now—so subtly and softly.

There were other stories, other memories that flashed in his mind, other _once upon a time's…_Frames flickered in his mind's eye, flashes of past stories and unfinished scenes.

"_Talk of possible kidnap, you know?"_

_--_

"_It is our part of our Code, brat. Xanxus-sama will honor it, if nothing else…What does he get out of it? No other gang getting their hands on a cultural icon. We're already at the top of the food chain. We don't need any one else trying to take it. All you have to do—"_

_--_

"_A-are you okay?"_

_--_

But he could never find the endings, could never find the answers. He thought it a bit unfair. He was the youngest, wasn't he? Albeit a bastard child, he still retained the youngest title. He laughed at himself, then. He choked a bit, on smoke and tears and hysteria. Where was the logic and reason in those statements? Hadn't he realized it before already? The world didn't need dreamers and stories.

It rained, legato notes blending into one song.

Another story unrolled itself in his mind, frame after frame—

_He sat still beside the faintly breathing Tsuna on the hospital bed. He has resolved himself. Because of the danger he, himself, presents to Tsuna—because of the injury—and because it was clear that after that kidnapping attempt by the Milliefiore was brought on because of his weakness…he has strengthened his will. He will leave Tsuna._

_Not even that damn Code…_

He was ready, to let go. He hoped, distantly that Tsuna would not be sad. It was…a good ending. And it would be by his choice and Tsuna would no longer have to fight him.

_These words are to tell the death of Gokudera who died on this day of --- and on this month --- of the year ---. _

Gokudera puffed the last breath out of the cigarette and pushed it into the spotted tiles. He sat up, straighter with the rain drumming down around him, a world of silence and darkness. The notes no longer played in his mind.

_He was a good man, loyal and devoted. Even when he ran off to join the Vongola, he was still very much my brother. He was a tactical genius, at chess and at those little puzzles…when he could stop screaming at me to stop cheating. And even when he hated my cooking—he still ate them._

There was an efficient way to do this. He was four floors up, on the roof. On the ground, it was rock solid gray tiles. It would be easy. Very easy.

_Today, Tsunayoshi was almost taken away from us. Those bastards Millefiore will pay. Gokudera managed to rescue him again in time, but in the process ripped out Tsuna's left wing. I think that…he tried his best, my brother. But…it was hard on him, to see what he'd done to Tsuna to ensure his safety. Even now, as we speak—blood loss and shock, the doctor said._

Gokudera could feel his heartbeat slowing, a beat stretching per second, then per minute, until Gokudera could no longer hear any in his chest. It felt empty…mute. The world stopped and died for Gokudera in that rain. He hugged his knees one last time.

_Today, my brother died out of love. _

He stood up, on the edge of that roof. And prepared to—

A black umbrella covered him, stopping the rain for a while. Tsuna watched him, holding the handle of the umbrella. He looked every bit tragic, one stump, one bruised wing and more hospital clothes yet again. Gokudera wanted to scream and yell and hug him and reproach him for escaping, but he was…he had nothing to say anymore.

Tsuna said, "In a lot of ways, we think alike. Rooftop, scene of death."

Gokudera jerked towards him, as if to convulsively clutch him away from gravity. But Tsuna stayed out of reach, just a bit and Gokudera stopped reaching. He wasn't measuring or counting, but eight centimeters might have been a bit cruel of Tsuna.

"…Tsuna-san—"

"It's Tsuna. It's not hard, you know. It's just two syllables."

The seconds ticked by them as Gokudera tried to tell Tsuna of his decision. He opened his mouth and then swallowed several nervous gulps. He must leave Tsuna. Instead, he said, "I still like them, your…wings." Because white wasn't just death and insanity, white was also snow and weddings and naivety and daisies. And Gokudera loved that color, even if Tsuna looked wan in them.

The brunette laughed, startled.

The seconds ticked by them again, the world passing them by.

And out of that da niente—out of nothing—came that single adagio beat of out of his chest. Like magic.

_And today, my brother learned to love and live for it._

And Tsuna reached out, bypassed those eight formidable centimeters, and interlaced his fingers with Gokudera's. Gokudera couldn't help but choke in nervousness. He mouthed the words into Gokudera's wet shirt, "Silly…did you think I…would give up too?" There was that ring on his finger, willing.

_And that would be all that they would ever need in this life and after, happily ever after._

--

There were other stories to this one too. Another started as such as:

"Orchestrating kidnappings, now Reborn?" Dr. Shamal had no compunction with blackmail and gossip-digging. He'd already been forced to treat Tsuna and the other one…He looked over at the curtained hospital bed, where the 'kidnapper' was. He'd taken some damage, but he'd be okay come morning. Some people were honestly like dogs.

Reborn smirked at him, from behind a newspaper. He said, just to bait the good doctor, "There were real Millefiore ready to kidnap him…but I can't very well have a prospective famiglia member in potential danger, now can I?"

He nodded and then gestured at the pawn Reborn had used. "What about him?"

"Him? Oh, don't worry about Hibari. He'll keep his mouth shut since he owed me a favor from that day of the explosion on the fifth floor. That guy…hates being in debt."

There were more, of course. Of Tsuna's initiation and of Xanxus betrayal and of the reason Tsuna's wings and how Gokudera finally stopped smoking and many more stories…But for now, it was a happy ever after, as much as they could in times like these. And they did wear white at the church, both Tsuna and Gokudera, smiling like young lovers.


End file.
